


Like Throwing Ropes around Ghosts

by SnarkyLlama



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Established Relationship, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-26
Updated: 2011-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnarkyLlama/pseuds/SnarkyLlama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akira and Hikaru both figure something out about the games they play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Throwing Ropes around Ghosts

"Your dinner is getting cold."

"Hmm?"

"Hikaru," Akira says, "your food is getting cold."

 _That_ is enough to startle Hikaru out of his thoughts. It took three years of living together before they started using each other's names, and even now, their names are mostly for the bedroom. He looks up and sees that there's a frown line creasing Akira's brow.

"I'm sorry," he says, meeting Akira's concerned gaze for a long moment before glancing down at his plate. That first bite of the pork had been pretty tasty, but none of it looks appealing now. "It was good. I just got caught up in my thoughts."

"That much was obvious."

Akira lifts his cup--the antique porcelain one that Hikaru gave him for his birthday, the one that Hikaru loves because Akira's hands are elegant and strong and they look so very right touching its delicate surface--and finishes his tea before speaking again.

"Would you like to share them? Your thoughts, that is. Not that mess on your plate."

"It's nothing. I was just..." He drags his chopsticks through his rice, drawing an 's.' "I was just thinking about ghosts."

"Ah," Akira says.

Silence settles like a shroud over the room, making Hikaru regret his words. The loss of Akira's father is still too recent for ghosts to be an easy topic of discussion, not that ghosts have ever been a simple subject for him. He wants to apologize for being awkward and selfish, but there is no good way to begin.

"I'm sorry," he says and gathers up their plates. "I'll do the dishes, okay? As payment for failing to properly appreciate your cooking."

Akira makes that little noise that he makes--Hikaru has never known what to call it--the one that would be a snort if it were coming from someone less dignified. It has always amused him, that special Touya almost-a-snort. Hearing it makes it easier for him to set aside his thoughts for now.

"I cooked," Akira reminds him. "So it's already your turn to do them."

"Yeah, but I'm going to wash them twice, just for you."

Akira sorta-snorts again, and Hikaru can't keep from smiling.

###

Hikaru is sitting at the goban in their living room two days later, when Akira returns from visiting his mother. He isn't recreating a game; there are no stones on the board and the covers are still on both of the goke.

Akira stands in the doorway, ungreeted, and watches Hikaru slowly rub his index finger against the surface of the board. After fifteen minutes of this, he sets his bag on the floor and goes to sit at Hikaru's side.

"Are you still thinking about ghosts?" he asks quietly.

In another situation, Hikaru's startled yelp would have been amusing, but Akira had seen his father sitting alone at a nearly-empty goban too many times for that.

"I didn't hear you come in," Hikaru says.

Akira doesn't point out that that was obvious.

#

Three days pass.

Akira wakes in the middle of the night. Everything is still and quiet, but he knows that Hikaru is not sleeping. He knows this even though Hikaru is, quite uncharacteristically, lying completely separate from him in their bed.

"If you tell me about the ghosts," Akira says, "I will listen."

Hikaru does not answer, but after Akira watches five minutes slip away by the light of their digital alarm clock, Hikaru's hand touches his and their fingers twine together.

#

"I don't mean to be broody," Hikaru says.

They are on a late train, and their only company is an elderly man who has been snoring since the last station.

"It affected your Go today." They both know it, so Akira says it plainly. Hikaru will not thank him for pretending to overlook a weakness.

"Yes," Hikaru says. "I'm lucky Takagi 7-dan was off his game, too."

"No. I'm not an expert on Takagi's Go--"

"Of course."

"--but I don't think that was the case. You were lucky that he was your opponent today."

Hikaru frowns in thought, but it is obviously the more normal type of Hikaru-thinking so Akira waits for him to work it out.

"Was that... was that almost a back-handed compliment you just gave me?"

"I don't know," Akira says. "Was it?"

Hikaru smiles. Akira lets the motion of the train bump their hands together.

#

When they arrive home, Akira settles on the couch with a book.

Hikaru clatters around the kitchen and sometime later, brings tea and kneels at Akira's feet. Akira closes his book.

"Please," Hikaru says. "I need it again."

Akira nods, and Hikaru bows his head in gratitude and relief. Hikaru somehow believes that this is something that Akira could deny him. Hikaru is the only one of them who is ever unaware of just how long he telegraphs his need before asking. Akira wants to reach for him, but he reaches for the tea cup instead. That is how they do this.

Akira drinks the tea. Its taste never even registers with him, but he lingers over it while Hikaru waits. Hikaru cannot leave the room; he cannot move beyond Akira's reach.

Hikaru cannot touch anything, not even himself. Over the years, Akira has learned to keep his own unnecessary touches to a minimum. Of course, there comes a point when he has to touch, when both Hikaru's needs and his own demand it. He's never quite figured out the logic behind it all, though who ever said that desire was logical? It's almost like Hikaru is supposed to be incorporeal, but...

 _Ghosts._

Hikaru mentioned ghosts only once, but Akira is certain that they are what has been plaguing him. If they weren't disturbing him in some way, Hikaru would have denied it; he would have said something when Akira asked about them.

So... Hikaru has been brooding about ghosts all week. He's never shared that detail before, so Akira has never made the connection. He wonders what to make of it.

Hikaru cannot touch anything. He can only beg for what he needs and hope that Akira will listen.

 _Sometimes my lover needs to be a ghost?_

It is not as ridiculous as it should be.

#

Akira leaves the empty tea cup in the living room.

That always grates a little. Hikaru would never be able to understand how unnatural that feels to him. He ought to take it to the kitchen and, at the very least, rinse it out and leave it in the sink. But if he does that, Hikaru will have to follow. He will follow willingly; this isn't something that Akira is making him do. It isn't like any of those scenes Akira read about when he tried to research this--and Hikaru has no idea how horrifying internet research can be.

He leaves the tea cup because having Hikaru trail him like a lonely ghost has always unsettled him, even though he hasn't attached those words to the experience until now. He knows what it is to be actively pursued by Hikaru. Haunting is a poor substitute.

Akira stops in his tracks, struck once again by the memory of his father waiting at his goban for a move that will never be played. It was one thing, to see him waiting occasionally, late at night. It was something else, the last few months after his stroke, when his father--

Hikaru bumps into him. "Touya," he chides. "You make a better wall than a doorway."

Akira spins around and jabs a finger at Hikaru. "You!"

"Akira?" Hikaru's voice wavers.

"If you ever leave me, I am not waiting for you. Not for a moment, understand? You will have to chase me harder than you ever have--harder than when you wanted me to notice your Go, harder than when you wanted me to notice _more_ than your Go. Got it? You will have no choice. You will chase me."

Hikaru's eyes are huge. He looks like Akira has just stunned him with a sucker punch, instead of a simple poke in the chest.

"If... If I leave you... doesn't that mean that we've broken up and... I don't want you anymore?"

Akira does not correct him. He does not say, _I'm not talking about breaking up_ , because what he is talking about is crazy. He cannot say it.

"You will _never_ not want me," he says. "I expect you to remember that."

"Ah... ah... yes, of course."

Hikaru shifts his weight from one leg to the other, and Akira realizes that he probably thinks that their plans for the evening have just been changed.

"Good," Akira says. "I'm glad that's settled. Let's go to the bedroom now and get the cuffs."

Hikaru backs up a step. "Hey, no, that's-- You're angry. I don't think bondage is a good idea right now. I can-- We can try again some other time."

"I'm not angry," Akira says. "I'm just... feeling particularly passionate. Please follow me to the bedroom and let me--"

"Because you need me to chase you."

"Yes."

"Just like I need you to tie me up. Sometimes."

 _Yes._

"Exactly."

"Okay then," Hikaru says. "But next time, you're getting your own tea."

"Next time we can skip the tea altogether."

"Are you saying you don't like my tea? I slave over a hot stove for you and this is--"

"You flip a switch on the electric kettle."

"That's right!" Hikaru says. "And this is the thanks I get? I even picked that tea for you--and it's from China!"

"You picked it up from the store by the station."

"Yes, but I would've gone to China for you, so that should count for something, right? And come on, you have to admit you love my tea."

Maybe Akira's wrong; no ghost could possibly be this chatty.

He likes Hikaru this way, though. It's much better than his silence. It's so much better, in fact, that he can't keep himself from pulling Hikaru into his arms. He's only supposed to keep _unnecessary_ touches to a minimum, and he needs to kiss Hikaru like he needs to breathe.

Hikaru gasps as their bodies meet, probably from surprise at yet another break from the usual way they play this. Akira presses his advantage, licking into Hikaru's mouth and not backing down until Hikaru's one hundred percent involved and participating in the kiss. Then he pulls back just enough so he can suck and nip at Hikaru's bottom lip.

He loves that. He loves the noises Hikaru always makes when he's doing that to him, and the fact that Hikaru never seems to be aware of all those appreciative and desperate little moans stirs Akira up all the more. Sometimes, Akira straddles Hikaru's lap and just kisses him for what seems like hours, kisses him until he comes against Hikaru's belly and then Hikaru fucks him hard, and it's one of Akira's most favorite things in the entire world. But he loves this, too, because with Hikaru, he's always wanted _everything_.

He fists a hand in Hikaru's hair as he continues to lap and nip at his mouth, and it's Hikaru who breaks the kiss next.

"Pull it."

"What?"

"My hair," Hikaru says. "Pull on it. I want to feel you. Make me feel you."

Akira growls and bites Hikaru's lip and tightens his fist in Hikaru's hair. How can-- How does Hikaru do this to him? If his fifteen-years-old self saw him now, would he even recognize this... this irrational man who's practically mauling Hikaru?

Hikaru groans. "Yeah, yeah... like that."

Akira pulls just a little more before letting his teeth scrape along Hikaru's jaw.

"You want to feel me? I'm going to fuck you. Do you think there's any chance that you're not going to feel that? Have I ever not fucked you right? Have I ever-- whoa!"

They tumble against the wall as Hikaru sort of... pushes all of himself up against Akira at once. Akira's back hits the wall, but he's instantly pushing back--and he has to push hard because Hikaru has the height and weight advantage--and it's a moment or two of wrestling before he has Hikaru against the wall. Hikaru seems to have forgotten that he can't touch anything, and Akira's not sure if that's because they're totally abandoning their scene or if Hikaru's just caught up in the moment. He wants to just go with it. It feels good. It feels right, but he does his best to pin Hikaru's wrists just in case, because the restraints have always been an essential part of the scene.

It's impossible. Those muscles that look so good when he's cuffed and begging and straining like he can still somehow grab hold of Akira if he tries hard enough, are stronger than Akira's accounted for. When he releases one wrist in order to work at the fastenings on Hikaru's khakis, Hikaru's instantly got his arm back around Akira's waist and he's dragging them both--oh no, no, Akira's so not the maniac in this relationship--down to the floor.

Akira lets himself fall with him. It's a little more controllable that way. Anything else and one of them will end up with an accidentally-blackened eye or worse. Once they're down and Hikaru's smiling up at him like Akira should be totally in awe of his 'genius' moves, Akira takes over. He'll show Hikaru real genius. It only takes a second to yank his belt out of its loops, and then--since he has much better taste than Hikaru--he's draping that expensive, supple leather over Hikaru's left wrist.

Hikaru jerks his hand away. "No."

Akira freezes. They've never bothered with safe words, because they're silly. No always means _no_.

"No?"

"I'm chasing you," Hikaru says. "I need my hands."

"Ah," Akira says.

Once again, Hikaru's logic escapes him. Chasing means running. Doesn't he only need his legs? But that doesn't matter right now.

He leans forward and slips the belt behind Hikaru's neck. He won't fasten it--the internet has made him horribly aware of the sorts of accidents that happen with improvised sex toys. Instead, he holds both ends in his fist and pulls just a little.

"How's this?"

His answer is Hikaru's eyes darkening till they're almost all black and Hikaru's body flexing like a bow under him, like the symbolism is enough and he's never truly needed physical restraints.

"What?" Akira says. "No answer?" He shifts backwards until Hikaru's erection is bumping teasingly against him.

"I like it." Hikaru's voice is rough, and he clamps his hands on Akira's hips and forces their bodies into a closer fit.

"I like it, too," Akira tells him. "I think we'll have to go shopping again. I can't believe we haven't tried a collar and leash before. Don't you want to be connected to me?"

"Oh. Fuck."

"Yes."

Akira rocks against him, vaguely wondering in the back of his mind why they're still fully clothed.

"Even better than a leash, I'll wear one of the cuffs and we'll find a leather lead with clips on both ends. We'll make it just the right length to clip your collar to my cuff when I'm fucking you."

"Oh, fuck. Akira... please."

Akira carefully increases the tension on his make-shift leash so there won't be any slack while he leans down to kiss him. They kiss and grind against each other until Akira's so hard, he's questioning his sanity. On the floor? In all their clothes? They're not sixteen anymore; they're twenty-four and in their own home and they have a very nice--

"Fuck," Hikaru says. "Fuck... I'm an idiot, I have hands." He starts pulling at Akira's waistband, and Akira's thoughts are completely derailed.

Akira pushes up onto his hands and knees, giving Hikaru room to work. It only takes a second for Hikaru to shuck off his pants, and Akira will give him grief later because he went commando to a match? That hardly seems professional. But right now, Akira has more pressing concerns.

"Tell me you have lube in your pocket."

Hikaru laughs and groans and tucks one hand into the front of Akira's briefs, cupping and protecting Akira's cock before roughly tugging his pants and underwear down.

"Have you met my lover?" Hikaru asks. He squeezes Akira's cock, and then releases it to dig in his pocket. "Of course I have lube. He'd curl up and die before he'd ever just spit in his hand. Aha!"

Hikaru proudly displays the single-use capsule before snapping the tab to break its seal. Akira snatches it from him.

"I'm not that bad."

Akira fumbles one-handedly with the capsule and suddenly realizes that he may have made a logistical error. He has to drop the 'leash' or--

Hikaru reclaims the capsule, and Akira can't help but pant a little as he watches Hikaru squeeze the contents into his hand.

"Oh, please," Hikaru says. "You totally are that bad."

Hikaru wraps his slicked-up hand around Akira's dick, and it's bliss. Akira humps into his hand, and for one dizzying moment, he thinks, _I love him, I love him, and I'm going to marry him_ even though that is, of course, legally impossible, and then Hikaru says, "You've licked my asshole, but you won't even consider spitting in an emergency," and the overwhelming sense of romance is safely dead again.

"I hate you," Akira says.

Hikaru laughs.

"Yes, yes, I've heard. We're rivals." He grabs at Akira's hips again, leaving a trail of lube on Akira's shirttail. "Fuck me now. Hate me later. Okay?"

"You should have saved some of that for you."

"Huh?"

Akira tries to explain, though it's difficult when he's slick and hard and just wants to slide himself right in. "The lube... you should have saved some instead of wiping it on me."

"Maybe I want you to lick me again."

Akira groans and fumbles with his free hand, helping Hikaru fold his right leg up and over Akira's shoulder.

"I can't," he says and he truly regrets it. "Not this time." He lines himself up and thrusts a few times, slow and shallow in the crease of Hikaru's backside, telling himself not to get caught up in it, he's just sharing the lubricant. It's hard to back off afterwards and get his fingers down there, down where he wants to be. "I'll never make it." His fingers are much more precise, though, taking up the slick and pressing slowly into Hikaru. "Do you know what you sound like?"

"Now?" Hikaru gasps.

"No." Akira pushes his fingers in farther, rocks them back and forth and almost wants to cry with his need to be in there, doing that with his whole being. "When my tongue is in you."

"Uhn... uh... yeah, Akira, yeah..."

"Yeah, you remember?"

Hikaru manages to shoot him a look like _What, are you insane?_ while pulling his other leg up and helping to hold himself open.

"All I... gods. Akira, right there. Please."

Akira bites his own lip, tasting copper as he holds himself back, and just twists his fingers inside Hikaru's heat.

"All I remember is lots of... more, more, more. Please more. Akira."

And Akira doesn't know if that's a quote or a request. He's pretty sure Hikaru won't mind if he takes it as a request, but... just to be sure...

"Want more?"

Hikaru's hand flails out and grabs hold of the leash.

"Gimme this. Gotta... Come on, Akira... get in me before I gotta put this on you and drag you..."

Oh. _Oh_.

Akira gets it now.

If Hikaru promises to chase him, he's got to promise to be ultimately capturable.

He quickly pulls his belt from Hikaru's neck and presses random, reassuring kisses on Hikaru's shoulders--aiming for his neck, but missing in his haste--when Hikaru cries, "What? What? No."

He flips the belt around his own neck and leans in close, licking at Hikaru's mouth, before whispering, "Hold on tight," and pressing the head of his dick, oh yes, thank you, into Hikaru.

Hikaru sort of jolts in shock and for a second, he is excruciatingly tight around his dick. Akira sucks in a harsh breath, and there are a thousand different things flashing through Hikaru's eyes but the main thing seems to be surprise at the leather in his hand. He's staring at it, following the line of it all the way up to Akira's throat, and then he relaxes all at once and Akira exhales and pushes all the way inside.

One of Hikaru's hands is wrapped tight around the leash and the other's reaching for Akira's neck. "It's not hurting you?"

Akira shakes his head. How could he possibly be hurting now? He eases back a little, enough to feel the tug of leather pulling him back to Hikaru, back to where he wants to be. He fucks Hikaru, feeling like it's something entirely new. He's not pushing inside so much as being pulled to where he should be. And they're supposed to be geniuses, they play games for a living, and yet they've never figured this out?

They're sharing control now. It feels so right. He'd wear a collar for Hikaru every night if it meant being together like this.

Hikaru's still staring at him like maybe he's trying to memorize this, and Akira wants to tell him he doesn't have to. They'll do this again. They'll do this until Hikaru loses that expression of stunned, disbelieving joy, except Akira almost hopes he never loses it, not completely.

Akira wants to come, he's so close, but Hikaru's not touching himself. Maybe he's still keeping to that one last rule? If he cannot touch himself...

It's a tangle, with the leash and Hikaru's arm reaching around his neck so that he can trace the leather as it works its way around, but Akira's nothing if not determined and he gets his hand around Hikaru's cock and oh, the head's so wet already, so... yeah. Just let his fingers slide and spread the pre-come further and then wrap and squeeze and--

Hikaru arches back. His hand drops from Akira's neck, and Akira has half a second to miss it, before Hikaru's hand joins his and their fingers squeeze around Hikaru's cock together and Hikaru's coming, and yes, he's so... he's so beautiful and so... It doesn't matter that Akira's the one wearing the leash, Hikaru is his. Beautiful and crazy and his, and Akira wants to stop and watch his partner finish and then start again and bring him up even higher, but it's nearly impossible, he needs--

Hikaru tugs on the belt-leash and growls. "Come with me, dammit."

And that's all Akira needs. He follows Hikaru's lead, and he's thrusting and falling and coming apart in Hikaru's grasp.

#

"Mmm, Akira, I'm gonna stay right here."

"No, you're not," Akira says. He doesn't care how good Hikaru looks in only his shirt and a sated smile. They are sweaty and messy, and Akira is going to sleep in Hikaru's arms tonight and there's no way in hell that's going to be _on their hallway floor_.

"No, I am," Hikaru says. "Have to." He sprawls on the floor, stretching his limbs and licking his lips. "Can't move, see?"

"Ah," Akira scoffs. "But you're moving now."

Hikaru's smile brightens, and he looks suddenly more like himself and less like a well-fucked sensualist.

"What?" Akira says.

"You just did that thing. The Touya Not-a-Snort. I always love that."

 _The Touya what?_

Akira blinks, and Hikaru laughs.

"Man. I feel great! Why don't you take me to bed?" Hikaru jiggles the belt that is still draped around Akira's neck. "Giddyup."

Oh, hell no.

"It's a leash," Akira says. "We are never, ever playing any games with reins."

"Take me to bed or I'm staying right here."

It isn't a hardship, really, to drag Hikaru up and lead him to bed.

#

Akira wakes in the middle of the night. Everything is still and quiet, and Hikaru is spooned up snugly behind him. Hikaru's arm is draped around his waist and his fingers are curled in a loose fist, resting low on Akira's belly. He knows that Hikaru is sleeping. He knows that nothing has changed, not really. They are both happy now, but Hikaru has--as far as Akira knows--suffered from occasional bouts of depression all of his life. It will happen again.

And yet... Akira still feels like something has changed. Maybe it's enough that he's seen their relationship in a slightly different light. It stands to reason, after all, that the more he understands his partner and rival, the closer they will get to everything they're reaching for.

He knows that Hikaru is asleep, but he tells him anyway, "I'm listening."

###

Hikaru wakes well before Akira. That's unusual, but he takes full advantage of it, and draws a hot bath for himself. Fucking on floors is hard on the back, who knew?

He grins to himself and happily savors the memories while he soaks. The sex was amazing, absolutely amazing, but the moment Hikaru finds himself lingering over the most is when Akira was jabbing at him and yelling. _You will chase me harder than you ever have._

He's never realized before how much Akira wants to be caught.

They are years and years away from it, but Hikaru's had a glimpse of what it will be like when they finally catch each other. Akira's seen it, too, but Hikaru's never shared the piece of it that only he has seen. He wants to do that now.

He slips into his yukata, heads for their best goban, and lays out a game.

An hour later, Akira hesitates upon entering the room. Hikaru looks up and smiles.

"That's... that's my father's game with sai," Akira says.

"Yes."

Hikaru lifts his hand, like he can pull Akira close with just a gesture. And apparently, he can, because Akira kneels by his side.

"May I tell you," Hikaru asks, "about how I saw this game being played?"

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the kink meme request: Akira/Hikaru, bondage and dirty talk. It didn't go quite where I expected it to. And I think perhaps it wants to be the start of something longer.


End file.
